


If I'd Never Seen Your face

by landofhorses



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Hunger - Alma Katsu
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landofhorses/pseuds/landofhorses
Summary: “It weren’t your fault you know,” says Milt. It’s the first time that either of them have spoken since James was banished from the caravan two days ago. He had figured that he’d let the man open up on his own time seeing the kind of ordeal he had just gone through, but he didn’t – hadn’t even looked in Milt’s direction since he reluctantly allowed him to tag along. Whatever happened was clearly eating at James and Milt couldn’t just let him sit with it by himself any longer.
Relationships: James F. Reed/Milford Elliott
Kudos: 1





	If I'd Never Seen Your face

**Author's Note:**

> Milt makes me very sad, so I wrote this to cope.

“It weren’t your fault you know,” says Milt. It’s the first time that either of them have spoken since James was banished from the caravan two days ago. He had figured that he’d let the man open up on his own time seeing the kind of ordeal he had just gone through, but he didn’t – hadn’t even looked in Milt’s direction since he reluctantly allowed him to tag along. Whatever happened was clearly eating at James and Milt couldn’t just let him sit with it by himself any longer.

“You can’t know that,” James says in response, shaking his head. “You didn’t see what happened.” His voice is soft and raspy with disuse, it makes something ache within Milt.

“I didn’t need to – you ain’t the kind of man that would’ve hurt somebody like that without reason,” he doesn’t mention what he saw in the aftermath. James’s injuries were more extensive than that scuffle could have produced on its own, and he had heard Eddy muttering to himself about the state of the man before the fight. He’d also seen the expression on James face after everything was through, one of anguish, yes, but also one of great relief. All of it told Milt that the two of them had some kind of history and it wasn’t good – which was reason enough for the man to be dead in Milt’s opinion. “I ain’t ever seen somebody that I’d consider a bad person this beat up about something they did. You’re a good man Mr. Reed, I know that for fact.” He tries to end his statement with a comforting pat to James’s shoulder, but the man startles so bad at the sudden movement that Milt drops his hand instead.

What had happened to him that would cause him such a fright at the idea of a mere touch?

He feels tears well up in his eyes at the possibilities, and he doesn’t try to hide it any – not that it would have mattered as James’s attention is focused solely on his cut-up hands. His wounds had been tended to with the best of Milt’s abilities, but there just wasn’t much he could have done with their limited supplies. The large gash on his forehead had been the most worrying, still leaking blood even hours after the event. Milt had stitched and cleaned it, but he’d need to keep an eye on it – that was if the man would even let him get close to him again, as James had not been too keen on receiving Milt’s attentions the first time. It was almost as if he didn’t think that he was worthy of receiving care, and Milt didn’t know why.

He doesn’t like this new demeaner the man has taken on, shy and self-conscious. He was no longer the confident, confrontational, person that he was when they first met in Springfield – the kind of man who’d had an opinion on everything and was more than willing to let everybody know. He hadn’t been the same after McGee left with his cash, but he’d only gotten worse as the wagon train continued west. If this was John Snyder’s doing then he wishes that the man had been ended sooner, if only to spare James some of the pain that he’s clearly suffered.

Neither of them say anything for a long while, the only sounds were those of the wilderness and the crackling from the dying campfire. James’s gaze is focused on someplace in the darkness behind Milt, though it seems like the man is thinking rather than trying to look for anything.

The uneasy silence is broke by Glaucus pawing at the ground with a hoof trying to find something suitable to eat, the poor beast was probably starving – everybody was. There wasn’t any game, and it wasn’t like they had much to catch it with anyhow.

The horse’s plight was apparently enough to shake James’s out of his thoughts, “I’m not.” He replies finally, but he sounds so full of despair that Milt almost wishes that he didn’t. “I’m not – I’m not – I’m –” he repeats over and over again, until he gets choked off by his own sobs. He tries feebly to gain control of himself, but the loud hitching continues despite his best efforts. He draws his knees up to his chest and hides his face instead, afraid of the idea of Milt seeing him like this. 

Milt wants to help, but he doesn’t know how – his words aren’t having the intended effect as James is too far gone to understand them for what they are. He has to do something else, and so he does – Milt pulls James into his lap so that he can hold him properly, and so that he could perhaps soothe the man. James doesn’t fight his touch this time, likely too worn out to do so. Milt rubs small comforting circles into the man’s back as he cries into his shoulder. He doesn’t ease up until James quiets some, after which he simply holds the man against him, pressing his face against his. He feels that his shirt is wet where the man’s head is buried, but Milt doesn’t care. James’s hands are fisted at the front of it like he is afraid that Milt might leave him.

“I love you,” Milt whispers into his ear, once he’s sure that the man will hear it. He hopes James already knows it, but he has to make sure.

James pulls back though, apparently startled by Milt’s words. The man stares up at him, his eyes wide and glassy, “why? I don’t deserve that from anybody, and especially not from you.” He says matter-of-fact, like it was anywhere near the truth. “You’re far too good for me Milt, there’s gotta be somebody else out there for you.” He seems so resigned to what he believed to be the inevitable – that Milt would finally walk away from him like he hadn’t risked everything he had just to stay by his side. It makes him shake with anger, and he has to take a couple of deep breathes to steel himself so that he doesn’t scare the already fragile man. 

The fact that somebody has made his James believe that he’s fundamentally unlovable – especially to him – is unbearable to Milt, “that ain’t true, there hasn’t been anybody else for me since I saw you for the first time strutting around in one of those ridiculous fancy suits of yours at the factory. You want me to go, and I’ll go, but don’t have me leave because you’re worried about not being good enough for me, because as you see,” he takes one of James’s hands in his, looks into his eyes and wills him to understand. “I made my mind up about that a long time ago.”

James doesn’t say anything, but he holds Milt’s gaze as if he is waiting for him to take it all back. Eventually, however, he shifts his eyes downward, satisfied with the truth of it all. He wraps his arms around Milt, “don’t leave, please,” he mumbles, “I want you too, far more than I should.”

He had always suspected it, but it was another thing entirely to hear it, and it makes him dizzy. Unable to help himself, he takes James’s head carefully in his hands – ever mindful of his injuries – and kisses him, soft and sweet like he’s always wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to follow me for more Donner Party/The Hunger related material, you can do so @JamsWaggon on twitter.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to give this a read!


End file.
